John Ringo - Emerald Sea

“Don’t thank me,” Herzer said. “We’d both be dead if it weren’t for Herman.”

“Where’d they go?” Elayna asked, sitting up.

“Down the passage,” Herzer said. “They’re faster than the ixchitl. It’s the orcas that they’re worried about, but the orcas weren’t going to go into the shallows; they would have been out in the deeps somewhere.”

“So now what?” Elayna asked.

“Now, we wait for the tide to go out,” Herzer said, looking out to sea. “And we count the breakage.”

The breakage had been heavy. Jackson the toolmaker was missing as well as a half a dozen of the mer-men who had given their lives to screen the retreating forces. Two of the mer-women were missing as well. Leaving Donal to hold the entrance, Herzer took Chauncey back into deep water to try to find them and Joanna, who hadn’t returned.

He found one mangled body of a mer-woman, her identity a mystery, and another was found by one of the greatly daring delphino scouts that darted out of the entrance. But no further sign of the mer-folk, or of Joanna, was seen.

“I can’t believe she’s dead,” Elayna said, when Herzer returned.

“She might be invulnerable to most harm,” Herzer pointed out. “But she can’t hold her breath forever.”

“She said she can hold it a long time,” Edmund pointed out.

“It’s been nearly an hour,” Herzer replied.

“We’ve got time,” the general replied, looking up at the sun. “It’s several more hours to low tide.”

The ixchitl had apparently divined the plan and had been making more rushes at the entrance. But some of the armed mer-men had worked their way over the rocks to the entrance and the delphinos clustered there as well. One ixchitl that worked its way under the net was torn apart by the enraged delphinos even before the dragons could swarm on it. After that Herzer cut stakes and the net was staked all the way across the entrance.

Still they looked out to sea, hoping to see any sign of a sea serpent’s head. The sun was descending in the west and they had virtually given up hope when Chauncey gave a startled cry and flapped his wings.

Herzer ran up to the shoulder of the ridge that formed the embayment and looked out to the darkening sea. Sure enough, there was a snakelike head slowly making its way back to shore.

Thirty minutes later Joanna dragged herself up onto shore. Her belly was ripped in numerous places and her back was covered with broad, red welts. But she was alive.

“Cristo,” she muttered, collapsing in a heap. “Remind me not to do that again.”

“So did you escape ?” Edmund asked. “Or eat?”

“Neither,” she answered, wearily. “I swear I died. But I know it did. And I didn’t eat; have you started serving ixchitl yet?”

“No,” Edmund said, looking at the rapidly shallowing water. “Soon.”

“Good,” she said, “wake me up when some’s done. I’d like mine medium.”

“The kraken is definitely dead,” Edmund pursued.

“Cracked its brain case with my own teeth,” Joanna said, her eyes closed. “Poke me if I lie.”

“And you didn’t eat it?” Herzer asked, aghast.

“Worst stuff I’ve ever tasted,” she answered. “Now, if you please, I vunt to be alun.” In moments she was snoring hugely.

It was after dark before the tide had gone out fully, but Herzer and Bast had gathered quantities of firewood and the water in the bay was lit with red when they and Edmund walked across the sandy bottom.

The ixchitl were crowded into the narrow stretch of remaining water, their wings flapping as they fought for the remaining breathable liquid, the firelight reflecting from madly churning wings, backs, eyes.

Herzer stopped as he raised the boarding pike and looked over at the general.

“Question, sir,” he said, lowering the pike as one of the ixchitl rolled an eye upward at him, gill openings on its back flapping in distress. “Is this a violation of the laws of land warfare?”

“Good question,” Edmund said, leaning on his own pike. “They’re sentient beings, so they can’t be treated like animals. On the other hand, they’re not signatory to any agreements with us and they have all participated in their own illegalities. On the gripping hand, we’re planning on feeding them to our dragons. And, honestly, I’m thinking of having a couple of wing-steaks myself. What’s your feeling, Lieutenant?”

Herzer looked down at the flapping rays and raised his pike. He thought about the tail of a mer-child lying on the sand of Whale Point Drop. Of Bruce, Jackson and all the others, paralyzed and dying for a breath of water or air. Eaten alive.

“Kill them all, sir,” the lieutenant growled, spearing downward and flipping the wounded ray out of the mass onto the hard, dry sand where it would die like a fish out of water. “God will surely know his own.”

“It tastes like… scallop,” Herzer muttered around a steak the size of a large Porterhouse.

The band of ixchitl had yielded enough food for the entire party to eat their fill. Cutting along the backbone and peeling back the skin of the wings revealed huge chunks of white, linear sections of meat separated by cartilaginous tissue. The dragons had simply torn into the ixchitl given to them, but Pete had shown how to separate out the steaks and these had been grilled over the fires, using the monomolecular net to keep them away from the flames. The produced meat was succulent and juicy, heavy in fat, and Herzer realized he’d eaten his steak without a pause.

“Back before replicators,” Edmund said, “they would catch rays and chunk them up, selling the meat as scallop meat. When replicators were introduced they used that meat as the template rather than real scallops. Real scallops got called ‘bay’ scallops. They’re sweeter and less chewy.”

“It’s still good,” Herzer said.

“You realize that this is cannibalism, right?” Pete said, chewing slowly.

“For you,” Bast said. She had produced a fork from her apparently infinite pouch and was delicately cutting slices from her steak. “I’m an elf. It doesn’t count.”

“They’re still sentient beings,” Jason pointed out.

“I’m not telling you you have to eat it,” Bast said. “In fact, if you’re done…”

“No,” Jason said, popping a piece into his mouth. “Just wanted to point it out.”

“For me, it helps,” Elayna said, chewing on a mouthful of the juicy meat. Her arm was tender and swollen around the harpoon still in it and had been bound up in a sling. But the other more than sufficed for current needs.

“Why?” Pete asked.

“The next time we have to fight them, I’ll just be thinking about the barbecue afterwards,” she said with a feral grin.

The barrels of water had been recovered but the island hosted a small spring and Herzer had had a chance to drink his fill and wash some of the salt off. All in all, he was feeling better than he had since the first attack on the town.

“Sentries are detailed, General,” he said formally. “I’ve got the second watch, so I’m for bed.”

The flood tide was making and there was enough room for most of the delphinos to fit in the bay again. The rest, mostly young males, hovered nervously at the dragon-covered entrance. But the two wyverns were posted by the water and if there was any attack they would be ready.

“I’d join you,” Elayna said, “but out of the water I’m not much fun.”

“If Herzer will carry you, feel free,” Bast smiled. “I wouldn’t mind a threesome.”

“Oh, Lord, what have I done to deserve this?” Herzer asked, holding up his arms.

“Is that thanks or a plea?” Elayna laughed. “No, you two go. I’m going to stay here by the fire and finish off the rays.”